


A Night at the Circus

by hashtagsalads



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Circus, F/M, One Shot, Prompt Fill, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-28 02:56:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16715256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hashtagsalads/pseuds/hashtagsalads
Summary: Sansa Stark, a beautiful aerialist, and Sandor Clegane, a beastly strongman, team up as a married couple--in the ring only, of course--and join the circus to make ends meet after life situations have left them in dire straits. But is there something more brewing between these two when the spotlight isn't shining on them?





	A Night at the Circus

**Author's Note:**

> This is a prompt fill from the Fanfiction Trope Mash-Up post on Tumblr (https://meridelclarke.tumblr.com/post/174003758104/fanfiction-trope-mash-up). An anon sent me #18-Circus AU and #49-Fake Married. I'll tell you, that mash-up honestly threw me for a loop, so hopefully I did the prompts justice in anon's eyes! Enjoy. :)

The crowd in the tent was hushed with excitement as the lights dimmed. What would happen next? They’d already seen so many oddities, curiosities, and amazements that they could hardly wait for whatever was about to appear.

Suddenly, the lights came back on all at once, and the ringmaster, Tyrion, stood in the center of the ring, his cane raised in the air. He was a diminutive man in stature, and stature alone. His personality was larger than life as he began to announce the next act, “Has anyone here ever met a man who could split logs with his bare hands? Ever met a man who ate iron for breakfast and steel for dinner? How about a man who could snap you in half with a flick of his wrist, and not even bat an eye? A man like that would certainly be fearsome to behold, wouldn’t you say? I certainly wouldn’t want him anywhere near me. The things I’ve seen this creature do to people would make your blood run cold as ice.”

The audience held their breath as they listened with rapt attention to the terrifying person the ringmaster described.

“Ladies and gentleman, boys and girls, feast your eyes on the strongest beast you’ll ever see! The Hound!”

Tyrion’s cane swooped over to the entrance, where a spotlight lit up a ferocious looking man, with long hair and horrific scars, most notably on the left half of his face. His teeth were bared as he fought to be released from the chains that bound him. He wore only a small pair of shorts, the better to see his extremely muscled physique, as he struggled his way down to the ring. Ten men held onto the chains, five on each arm, until they finally reached their destination. At that point, the Hound flung himself free, scattering the men in all directions. They fled as fast as they could, while the savage strongman stalked into the ring.

Tyrion took hold of a rope that had been lowered to him, putting one foot in the loop as he was whisked away to a platform high above. “Watch, as he destroys everything in his path!” he called out from his perch.

The Hound began to pick up barrels and crates, smashing them into pieces, and stunning the crowd. As promised, he split logs in half with his bare hands, tearing them to shreds like it was nothing. He growled and screamed all the while, the rage evident throughout his body as his muscles coiled and undulated.

“Who could ever hope to tame such a savage beast? Perhaps a little bird could gentle the rage inside him?”

Suddenly, a spotlight shone on another platform adjacent to Tyrion, where a petite woman with bright copper hair stood, trapeze in hand. The deep blue corset which cinched her waist in perfectly was decorated with peacock feathers around the bottom, and jeweled with emeralds and sapphires at the top. Her tights glittered with sparkling stones as she prepared to leap from where she perched.

The audience gasped as she flew through the air, her hands releasing the trapeze just above the Hound. As she plummeted downwards, she did several flips, before he reached up and caught her by the waist. Several people in the crowd stood to get a better look at what such a beast would do to the poor woman. Many of the women had their hands on their throats and several others had fainted at the mere thought of her being in his grasp.

For a moment, it looked as though he would throw her to the ground—to beat her? To ravish her?—as he lifted her above his head. Instead, he tossed her back into the air before catching her bridal style, spinning her around with a grin on his face. She laughed, a light, airy sound, as her hair flowed behind her.

“That’s right, folks! Beauty has truly tamed the beast! Before our Little Bird came around, the Hound was truly a monstrous sight to behold. No one could get near him for fear of losing a limb or worse! Yet, the very moment she walked into the room, the Hound was besotted. Lucky for him, she returned his affections, even going so far as to become his wife! She had the power to transform this ferocious Hound into her own personal lap dog!”

As he told their story, the Hound let the Little Bird down, and she walked him around by a chain that hung around his neck, showing just how much control she had over him. He followed behind her the whole way like a lovesick puppy, while she waved to the crowd, grinning widely. Then, she turned and pointed to the ground, indicating he should get down on his knees. Dutifully, he obeyed, as the audience was enraptured at the idea that such a slip of a thing could hold so much power over a person that could snap her in half in an instant.

The Little Bird dropped the chain and indicated he should put his hand out, which the Hound obliged quickly. She backed up a few steps, and then she was off, running and using his hand as a springboard as he launched her into the air. She did several flips and landed on her hands behind him, launching herself in the air to do one more flip before landing on her feet. Then, she snapped her fingers, and he was on his feet facing her a moment later.

They did several more aerial and balancing stunts, the most impressive of which was when she balanced her weight on two of his fingers. The audience gasped, and oohed and ahhed as the two worked in sync to put on a spectacular show.

For the finale, the Little Bird walked across a tight rope strung high over the ring. The Hound stood underneath, ready to catch her at a moment’s notice. Everything went well, until her foot slipped, and she plummeted, seemingly to her death. However, the Hound was agile, and caught her bridal style before she hit the ground. At that, the audience erupted in cheers.

“You see folks? If even a man as grotesque as the Hound can find love, then there must be hope for us all! Please, give another round of applause to our two lovebirds!” Tyrion cheered, entering the ring once more. Everyone around them stood, clapping their hands vigorously as the Hound carried the Little Bird out of the big top and into the night.

 

~~~

 

The sound of the applause followed them until they were halfway across the grounds and heading towards their tent. The whispers continued to follow them until they had actually reached their destination. The stares and comments were not lost on her, with one woman giggling quite loudly to her friend that she didn’t know how Sansa could look at that face while they were making love. She’d scowled at the woman and wrapped her arms more tightly around Sandor’s neck in response.

It was only when they actually reached their tent that he finally set her down gently.

“You didn’t have to carry me the whole way,” Sansa said as she crossed the space to her side of the tent, which was separated by a privacy partition.

“Looks more convincing that way,” Sandor grunted in return, shrugging his shoulders.

Sansa only hummed her reply, not sure what else to say. It was highly unlikely that anyone believed the two of them were truly in love. She doubted there was much they could do short of actually knocking boots in front of people to convince them that their marriage was real.

Which, of course, it wasn’t.

But, it had been the only way Tyrion agreed to hire them. By coincidence, she and Sandor had shown up the same day looking for work. She had run away from home after her uncle had tried to sell her into marriage to another family, and Sandor had simply needed a job. Tyrion had insisted that each on their own wasn’t enough of a sell. However, if they pushed the Beauty and the Beast angle, maybe they had something. The more he talked, the more excited he got, talking about how she could tame the savage soul within the Hound. The catch was, they had to pretend to be married in order to really sell it. That was Tryion’s only offer, take it or leave it.

She’d been so desperate to get as far away from her former home as possible that she’d all but begged Sandor to accept. In truth, she still didn’t know why he’d agreed. From that moment on, he’d been nothing but a terror. Drunk every day and every night, arguing with her, cursing at her, throwing things. Of course, he’d never laid a hand on her, but he certainly hadn’t made it easy to pretend to be his wife.

However, it had all come to a head one night when he was particularly intoxicated. A fire breather got too close to him, causing him to leap back in terror. He’d fallen to the ground and cried out like a child. It had surprised Sansa, and as she helped him back to their tent, he’d revealed to her the tragic story of how he’d gotten his scars at the hands of his older brother, who had burned his face. It had broken her heart, and allowed her to finally see past the persona he used and get to the man he really was inside.

After that night, he began to drink less, yell less, break things less. He softened towards her, treating her at first with gruff kindness, then genuine kindness. It had been a strange turn, and one she didn’t altogether mind, especially after the difficulty of their first few months together. After that night, he always handled her with such a gentle touch, treating her almost as though she were a delicate doll, something precious to be cherished. It caused a strange feeling in her heart that she didn't totally understand.

Sansa sighed as she sat down at her vanity, ready to remove all the trappings of her act. The makeup she wore was caked on thick, exaggerated so that her features stood out to people who were all the way in the back row. It took ages to remove, and when she finally did, she took a long, hard look at herself in the mirror now that she finally resembled herself. As she did, she caught sight of the hairpin she wore, also decorated with peacock feathers that matched her outfit, and smiled softly at the memory of how she acquired it.

The circus had set up shop outside of town, and Sansa and Sandor had decided to wander through it. She had several errands that needed tending to, the most important of which was to purchase several ointments to care for her aching joints. They were on their way back when they’d passed a shop window and she’d spotted the hairpin, desiring it deeply. It was gorgeous, glittering in the window, but when she’d inquired about the price, she’d found she couldn’t afford it. After buying the medicine she needed, little of her pay was left over. They’d left town with Sansa disappointed, knowing she’d never see the hairpin again.

However, that night, right before they were set to go to the big top, he’d presented it to her wrapped in a handkerchief. Sansa had held back tears, as it was the nicest thing anyone had done for her since her parents had died. As he’d pinned it into her hair, she’d felt truly cared for, and something in the way she viewed Sandor had seemed to shift.

It had been subtle at first, with her staring at him just a moment too long, though she’d chalked it up to simply getting lost in thought. But then her gaze lingered longer, on his muscular arms, his broad back, his strong shoulders. After that, Sansa had started dreaming about him, often in most inappropriate situations. Every morning after such a dream, she woke with her face flushed, her chest heaving, and she could barely make eye-contact with him the rest of the day. It was maddening, since she still didn’t fully understand why she was having such visions of him.

Sansa shook her head, and decided it would not do to dwell on whatever was happening between the two of them. It was all an act anyway. She was just too convincing at playing her part, and it was confusing her. She quickly removed the hairpin and put it in its special box, then set to work attempting to remove her corset in order to distract herself from her thoughts.

However, it proved much more difficult than it had on previous nights. Her arms were tired, as were her fingers, and she couldn’t reach the strings to begin to unlace them properly. Sansa danced around in circles for several minutes before she finally gave up, out of breath.

It was at that moment, that she noticed movement out of the corner of her eye, and turned to see Sandor chuckling at her expense. Before she could admonish him, he asked her softly, “Need some help?”

Sansa straightened, her face flushing as a particularly vivid dream which had started exactly this way came into her mind unbidden. She hesitated, unsure if she should let him get this close to her with such unseemly thoughts running through her head. However, after she realized the alternative was sleeping in her corset the rest of the night, she sighed and nodded, saying simply, “Please.”

Something in his gray eyes darkened as she said the word, and his smile faded. He crossed the tent to where she stood, towering over her. Sansa’s breath hitched as she stared up at him, wondering what he was going to do. After another moment, he arched his good brow at her and said, “Well?”

“Well what?” Sansa asked faintly, frozen in place.

“Are you going to turn around so I can unlace you?” Sandor asked her, his voice rasping huskily.

Her face flushed scarlet as she realized she’d asked him to help her and then just stood there like a fool. “Of course!” she exclaimed, turning around so he wouldn’t see her blush.

Sansa expected him to struggle with the delicate ties, but he slid the laces out expertly, his hands working more quickly than she imagined. Soon she had to hold the garment up so that it didn’t fall down and expose her breasts. As he reached the top and undid the final laces, she felt his fingers brush against the skin on her back and shivered, imagining his hands exploring more of her, moving up the delicate column of her throat to take a fistful of her hair and pull her head back, then he would kiss her and…

Sandor’s voice startled her a moment later when he whispered, “All done.” His breath blew across the back of her neck, causing her to groan unexpectedly.

“Sansa? Are you okay?” he asked, his hands on her shoulders, turning her to face him.

“I’m fine…” Sansa murmured faintly, staring up at him, her cheeks still flushed as she clutched her corset closer to her chest. Her eyes drifted down to his lips, and she stared at them, unable to stop herself from imagining what it might be like if he really did kiss her.

Sandor’s hands lingered on her shoulders as he seemed to realize what she was thinking, much to her dismay. She expected him to step back, move away from her, ignore her, or reject her in whatever way came to his mind. Instead, one of his hands slid across the skin of her collarbone, drifting up her neck, until he clasped her by the chin. His hands were rough, but still handled her with the same delicacy she was accustomed to, and Sansa decided in that moment that whatever happened, she was willing to let it.

Her eyelids fluttered closed, her lips parting, as she waited to feel Sandor’s mouth on hers.

However, the moment was shattered seconds later when Tyrion burst into their tent, exclaiming, “That show was brilliant! Your best yet! You should have heard the way people were talking about you when they left the tent!”

Immediately, the two of them sprang apart, with Sandor shielding her from Tyrion’s wandering eyes, as he growled, “Damn it dwarf! Didn’t anyone teach you to knock?” Sansa did her best to shrink behind Sandor, feeling extremely exposed with nothing but her hands holding her corset in place.

Tyrion took in the scene, his grin turning into a lascivious smirk as his eyes glinted. “I’m afraid there was no door to knock upon, so I assumed my announcement would suffice. Although, I did not think I had any reason to knock. I see I was mistaken. Please forgive my interruption. I shall take my leave.”

Sansa had no doubt what their employer was thinking, and couldn’t help but be embarrassed at having been caught in such a compromising state. Before Sandor could turn around, she moved away from him, saying, “It’s awfully late. We should probably get to sleep. If you wouldn’t mind.”

She refused to look at him, though she could tell from the pregnant pause that he wanted to say something. However, after a beat he simply sighed, bid her good night, and retreated to his side of the tent. A part of Sansa was disappointed that he didn’t press her, though she couldn’t say why. Whatever had happened had only been the result of something in the heat of the moment. It surely didn’t mean anything more than that.

Yet, as she fell asleep, she couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened had they not been interrupted. Her heart was strangely wistful as she imagined what might have been.


End file.
